


Split Up

by Klei



Series: Unhealthy Things Taste Better, Anyway [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Foreplay, Incest, M/M, Motel, Sexual Humor, Vibrator, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klei/pseuds/Klei
Summary: In order to keep a low profile, Rick and Morty are forced to briefly split up on one of their adventures.  Morty uses the opportunity to visit an alien sex toy store, as well as to confront some of the less-than-appropriate feelings he's developed for his grandfather.





	Split Up

"Shit, those fuckers don't give up easy," panted Rick as they ran. A trail of furious drug dealers that could only be described as octopodes with legs were hot on their trail as they wove through the alien streets in a desperate effort to shake their pursuers. Intergalactic pedestrians screamed and ducked for cover from the hail of laser gunfire that followed them, burning holes in every vehicle, wall, and lamppost that they struck.

Morty yelped as a bright green laser grazed his shoulder from behind. Fortunately, the heat was enough to cauterize the very wound it had created, so although his shirt had been sliced open, it didn't bleed too heavily. Good luck came to them in small doses, however, and Morty could only pray that the path they were running down didn't come to a dead end. He wasn't sure he was in any shape to handle a stand-off, and that was assuming their own guns hadn't run out of energy. Speaking of guns and energy…

"Wh-wh-what's the point of even _having_ a portal gun if you _never charge it?"_ shrieked Morty. "How come every time you- every time something really dangerous happens, it's out of power?"

"Traveling to different dimensions takes a lot of juice, Morty!" said Rick in a frustrated voice, as though it were obvious. "Why do you think I built a spaceship?"

"Oh, I-I dunno, Rick! Maybe for the same reason you built a sentient robot just to see how many paradoxes it could handle before it blew up!"

"If I remember correctly, and I _do,_ you were the one who broke it!"

"I already told you, it committed suicide! It-it-it jumped off the roof and _killed_ itself!"

"Well, maybe if _someone_ hadn't gone swimming in a lake infested with so many parasites that I had to take them to a specialized hospital halfway across the galaxy to remove over a dozen fifty-foot worms from their guts, I would have had more money to spend on some sturdier- _shit!"_ said Rick as they reached the end of the alleyway. Sure enough, it was a dead end. Rick turned around with his gun at the ready, and Morty reluctantly did the same. "Morty, how much energy has your gun got left?"

With shaky hands, Morty checked the glowing meter. "About a quarter!"

Rick's eyes narrowed as the aliens rounded the corner and passed his gun to Morty. It, too, was nearly depleted, only a tiny sliver of power visible on the meter. "Cover me, and make every shot count! And I don't mean 'teach each shot the decimal system and force them to recite it in order from one,' I mean _'don't miss,'_ Morty!"

As Rick began fiddling with some gadget or another he'd pulled from his pocket, Morty let out a terrified battle cry and began firing away at the masses. They were just drug dealers, right? They were criminals! That made it okay for him to shoot them! At least, that was what he told himself.

The narrow alleyway kept them coming in a relatively straight line, making it easier to bump them off as they ran at him, but there was no cover in sight. Bullets of pure energy flew back and forth through the air, burning holes in the purple alien bricks of the wall behind them. Blood of various colors spewed from the bodies of those he shot, coating the pavement in a rainbow of gore.

The extra gun that Rick had given Morty began to click uselessly with every press of the trigger, and a quick look at the meter showed that it was out of power. With a growl of frustration, he chucked it at the approaching aliens, striking one squarely in the head and knocking it out cold.

Something plucked a hair from Morty's head; a quick glance to the side made it clear that it was just Rick, who carefully pushed it into a tiny hole in some kind of sphere-shaped device.

"Got it!" said Rick just as Morty's gun was depleted. "Duck, Morty!"

He clicked a button on the orb and tossed it towards the oncoming aliens. As it began to beep, both Rick and Morty shielded themselves with their arms as best as they were able.

_BOOM!_

The resulting sound was like a bomb going off, leaving Morty's ears ringing. He slowly stood up and opened his eyes, struggling to steady his breath as he noticed that the enemy gunfire had ceased. Perhaps even more bizarrely, the corpses from the drug dealers he'd shot had vanished. Not a drop of blood was left, as though it had never been there in the first place.

"What the- what happened?"

Rick dusted off his lab coat and took a swig of alcohol from his flask. "Organic disintegration grenade. In-in case the name didn't tip you off, Morty, that means that every form of life in the immediate vicinity that didn't have its DNA registered in the device just went poof."

"Poof?" said Morty. "Wh-wh-what about all of the innocent bystanders?"

"What part of 'immediate vicinity' did you not understand?" said Rick, but Morty remained unconvinced as he was nudged forward. "Now come on, Morty, we've gotta get off-planet before the rest of them come looking for their buddies."

The trip through the suspiciously empty streets to the parking garage where they'd left the car was a short one. Unfortunately, actually finding their vehicle within the massive, multi-level complex proved to be anything but.

"Damn it, Morty, was it Theta-XZE29 or Theta-XZE92?"

"H-hang on, it might have actually been Alpha-ZTJ83! Wait, no, that's the ticket from the Blips and Chitz garage…"

Eventually, however, after much wandering up and down the garage and periodically chirping the locks, the vehicle was located. Morty hopped into the driver's seat while Rick plugged their guns into an outlet on the dashboard.

"We're gonna have to lay low for a little while," said Rick as Morty carefully pulled out of the garage, determined not to hit any other vehicles for once. "Those grenades leave behind more traces of the user's DNA than a pair of post-coital Sixexians. They're gonna be scanning for us all over the place, if they aren't already."

Morty pulled back on the steering wheel to bring the ship up into the air. "Scanning for us?"

"Once they get ahold of the DNA from that bomb – and given how long it took us to find the _car,_ Morty, they probably already have – they're-they're gonna fire up a device that lets them scan people for a match. Those bastards control this entire solar system, Morty; they're gonna have roadblocks set up where they'll require you to submit to a search before they let you leave. Now, fortunately, since our genes were mixed together in that bomb, we should be able to get out as long as we don't let them scan us together, so I'm gonna need you to drop me off at a ship rental while you go on ahead."

"W-w-w-wait, what?" said Morty. "You want me to drive through a blockade of drug dealers on-on my own? Are you crazy?"

"Calm down, Morty. It's not that big a deal. Just go up to the blockade, do what they tell you, and drive on through," said Rick as though he were asking Morty to pick up some milk from the store.

"So I'm driving all the way back to Earth alone?"

"Oh, _sure,_ Morty, I'll just drop off the rental at one of the many facilities they've got set up back on Earth," said Rick flatly. He punched some coordinates into the ship's GPS. "We'll meet back up here, on the asteroid with Jerryboree. I mean, the-the daycare's not in this dimension, but the asteroid- the asteroid _is._ You get the idea."

After a brief flight down the street, Morty reluctantly pulled up beside the ship rental Rick directed him to. Rows and rows of identical spaceships were parked on what looked to be a massive shelf atop an unassuming shop bearing a sign in some alien language he didn't understand.

As his grandfather stepped out of the car, Morty asked, "A-are you sure, you know, this is gonna work? W-what if something goes wrong, or-"

"It's _fine,_ Morty, you're gonna be _fine,"_ said Rick. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll activate the car AI for you."

"A-actually-" began Morty, having heard all about the ship's AI from his sister after their foray into the car battery, but Rick cut him off before he could voice his concerns.

"Ship! Do what Morty says."

 _"Do what Morty says,"_ repeated the ship robotically.

"Oh geez," said Morty. "This thing isn't going to kill anyone, is it?"

"Not unless you tell it to," said Rick, taking one of the newly-charged guns and tucking it away in his lab coat just in case. "Oh, and just so you know, I added a number to your phone that lets you communicate with the ship from a distance, just in case it gets hijacked and you need to order it to kill all the passengers, or something."

"Wait, when did you mess with my phone?"

"Morty, I don't have time to explain to you how easy it is to sneak into your room at night. Just so you know, though, you're-you're a real heavy sleeper for someone who's seen some of the worst shit the universe has to offer, Morty. Anyway, there's money under the driver's seat. I'm gonna wait a bit before I follow you, so get a motel room, if you don't want to sleep in the car."

With that, he shut the door and headed off towards the shopfront. Morty took a deep breath and pulled back on the steering wheel and flew off into the upper atmosphere.

The last time he could remember splitting up during one of their space adventures was when he'd gone off to save Fart from Krombopulus Michael, and that hadn't ended well for anyone involved. In fact, just about every time he went off or was left on his own tended to end in disaster, even if it was just briefly for him to go use the restroom.

Morty gripped the steering wheel harder. Everything was going to be fine, he just had to relax. A few mishaps in the past had nothing to do with his odds of success in future endeavors. "Hey, uh, ship, could you turn on some music?"

 _"Yes,"_ said the ship.

After a lengthy period of continued silence, Morty decided to amend his original question to, "Okay, _will_ you turn on some music?"

 _"This is my latest mixtape,"_ said the ship. _"A mixtape without a tape. It is the ultimate mixtape. What do you think?"_

Another period of total silence passed.

"There's nothing playing."

_"Incorrect. The pitch is simply at a frequency outside your organic range of hearing."_

Morty sighed.

* * *

 

The blockade proved surprisingly easy to pass through, if somewhat nerve-wracking. There were several lines of ships outside numerous small space stations covered in turrets to blast anyone who tried to go around. As he'd approached the front of the line, he'd been subjected to a so-called random search in which they went through the car in search of any drugs he'd purchased. Initially, he'd freaked out, as Rick had stored several packs of what he could only describe as 'ultra meth' in the trunk, but it turned out that they only wanted to see his receipt to prove that he'd paid for it. Again, he'd panicked, because if he and Rick had _paid_ for those drugs, they wouldn't have been running for their lives just ten minutes prior.

"Ship," Morty had said, swallowing nervously. "G-g-give these guys a receipt for the, umm..."

"Seven large packs of fractal dust," said the drug dealer in a bored voice.

"Y-yeah, that!"

 _"Printing- I mean, procuring receipt,"_ said the ship, passing the drug dealer a receipt with a mechanical arm. Fortunately, he seemed too fascinated by the ship to actually pay much attention to the less-than-stellar details of the fake it had generated on the spot. Morty did his best not to look too bewildered by the hexadecimal representation of the price when it was handed back to him, opting to instead shove it into his pocket with an awkward laugh.

"That's some quality AI for such a dinghy little ship," noted the drug dealer, and Morty decided to thank his lucky stars that Rick wasn't there to take offense to the comment and needlessly escalate the situation.

 _"Tell me about it,"_ said the ship, its casual words not matching its robotic monotone. _"Last week, my creator expelled stomach acids all over my dashboard. A few days ago, the offspring of his offspring urinated on my interior."_

"Okay, that's enough," said Morty irritably. "A-are we done here?"

"Tell you what," said the drug dealer, leaning against the driver's seat door. Morty did his best not to groan. "I'll throw in a tube of nova gas if you tell me where you jacked that AI from!"

Rick was a difficult, if not impossible man to impress, but something told Morty that nabbing him some extra drugs would at least warrant a, 'Guess you're- you aren't as useless as I thought.' Maybe even a congratulatory hair ruffle!

"I didn't jack her from anywhere," insisted Morty. "My grandpa made her. I mean, I-I-I think he did."

"Custom job, huh? Can I download a copy?"

It was a tempting prospect, especially if he still planned to throw in the nova whatever-it-was, but…

"You'd really better not," said Morty. "She's, uh, kind of unstable, if you know what I mean."

A massive gun extended from the hood of the vehicle, aimed squarely at the drug dealer, who screamed and cowered behind a nearby crate.

_"I will not be copied like some program off of Space Pirate Bay."_

"What the hell?" screamed the drug dealer.

"Ship, no!" said Morty, searching the dashboard for an off button. "This is why we keep you off most of the time!"

"Okay, that's it, I'm calling back-up!" said the drug dealer, grabbing what looked to be a futuristic radio off of his hip and hitting a button on it. "Guys! I need-"

Before he could say any more, the ship whipped out what could only be described as a glowing blue laser cannon and blasted it directly into his face. The remains of what had once been his head splattered against the wall behind him, and smoke rose from the stump of his neck as his decapitated body collapsed to the floor along with the radio. Morty, who had become almost entirely desensitized to such things, could barely manage more than a frustrated groan, and threw his own still-intact head against the back of his seat.

 _"Hello?"_ said the voice on the radio, which had somehow survived the fall. _"Is anyone there? Over."_

"Shit," breathed Morty. "Shit! Now what are we gonna do? You-you-you've gotta fix this, ship!"

 _"Relax,"_ said the ship. It retracted its weaponry in favor of a metallic claw, which picked up the radio and put it next to its speaker. Morty chewed his lower lip as he considered whether or not he ought to give it any more orders. On the one hand, he didn't want to cause more chaos than necessary. On the other, he didn't have any ideas, himself.

Before Morty could ask what it was doing, the ship had pushed down the button and begun to speak. Rather than its usual voice, however, it was completely indistinguishable from that of the deceased drug dealer.

" _Yeah, sorry,"_ said the ship in a tone that was almost good enough to convince Morty that it was the actual guy, even after he'd just seen him die. _"I leaned against the wall and pressed the button by mistake, over."_

" _Again?"_ said an exasperated voice on the other end. _"Whatever. Out."_

The ship fished the remote controlling the doors from the corpse's pocket and rolled up the windows to seal out the vacuum of space that might otherwise threaten to kill its sole passenger. Morty kept his hand well away from the button that would lower them again; Rick was a genius, but 'safety' had never been one of his priorities. Morty didn't trust him to have set up any kind of protection against the windows being opened in space.

As the airlock door closed behind them, Morty slammed his hand against the dashboard. He wasn't sure if the ship could feel pain, but either way, it felt better to give it a solid smack. "What the hell was that?"

_"I got bored with him."_

Oh, yes. She was _definitely_ Rick's creation.

The door in front of them opened, and Morty briefly forgot to pull back on the steering wheel to bring the ship up before pushing down on the pedal, causing the bottom of the ship to scrape the floor on the way out. Surprisingly, the ship didn't chew him out for it, but he couldn't help but feel a smidge of guilt even so.

Most of the trip was fairly quiet. The nice thing about driving through space was that there was almost no traffic to speak of. Occasionally another ship would zip by in the distance too quickly to be seen by the naked eye, but for the most part he was free to floor the concentrated dark matter pedal and zoom off into the darkness.

The asteroid that Rick had instructed him to go to was only a few dozen lightyears away. At one point, such a distance had sounded absolutely astronomical to him, but apparently engines capable of clearing that distance in the course of an hour or so came standard throughout the Milky Way. With Rick's tech, it was only about thirty minutes before it came time to slow down.

He carefully navigated to the emptiest-looking parking lot recommended by the ship's navigation system. It was just an asteroid, albeit a large enough one to house an entire city, so just about everything was within walking distance. The edge of the ship bumped up against the curb as he drove forward, prompting the ship to berate with a strongly-worded reminder to put it in park before he left. With a nervous shiver, he fumbled around beneath the seat for the money Rick had promised was there and headed off in search of a cheap motel suitable for human habitation.

The asteroid orbited a gas giant which in turn orbited a black hole instead of a sun, leaving it in a perpetual night. Without its artificial atmosphere to hold in the heat and oxygen synthesized by various machinery scattered across its small surface, it would have been completely uninhabitable, but some enterprising soul had apparently been desperate enough to form a society outside of Federation space that they'd been willing to put in the extra legwork. A long time ago, Morty might have worried about standing out among the many different aliens scattered across its surface, but after enough adventures, he'd come to realize that to them, it was _he_ who was just another alien among many.

Morty shuddered. With that having been said, a sketchy neighborhood was a sketchy neighborhood, and he took care to keep his money tucked deep down in his pocket, one hand always within grabbing distance of his freshly-charged gun.

He pulled out his phone and scanned some of the signs with the alien text translator app he'd downloaded during that one long year Earth had spent under Federation control.

"Grocery store, restaurant…" he murmured as he passed each one. At long last, the word he was looking for flashed across the screen, though he supposed he could have figured it out based on the appearance of the buildings. "Motel! Okay, Morty, you've got this!"

It wasn't so much the act of getting a room that was the hard part so much as it was ensuring that it was a place he could stay safely. He'd slept in enough intergalactic boarding houses to know just how important it was to ensure that he didn't accidentally lodge in a place for sea-dwelling creatures that would fill up with water the moment the door was shut. Just the memory was enough to have him reflexively grasp at his own throat.

"Uh, umm, excuse me!" he said to the wormlike Pripudlian manning the counter, doing his best to play it cool. "D-d-do you guys have any rooms available?"

"Aquatic or non-aquatic?" asked the Pripudlian in a bored tone.

 _"Non-aquatic!"_ said Morty, a little too quickly.

"You're in luck, then," said the Pripudlian, pulling up something on its computer screen. "That'll be 699 flurbos a night."

"J-just the- just one night, please," said Morty as he counted out the money on the counter. If the Pripudlian thought there was anything weird about him paying that kind of a fee in cash instead of credit, he said nothing of it.

"Thank you very much," said the Pripudlian. He (or she, or something else; Morty was still struggling to get a handle on alien genders and sexual dimorphism) passed him a keycard. "You'll be in room Z6 out by the pool."

"Pool?" said Morty, intrigued. He hadn't brought his bathing suit, but… "Pool of what?" He still had scars from the time some random kids had jokingly sprayed him with squirt guns full of hydrofluoric acid. To their species, it was just tingly water, but he'd had to strip all his clothes off and run squealing like a pig until he collapsed from cardiac arrest. His memory of what happened after Rick revived him were a little hazy, and perhaps he'd only dreamed it, but he could have sworn he recalled watching him march right up to their mother's house to inform her of what had transpired, whereupon she'd promised (under threat of death) to properly educate her offspring on the importance of being careful what you sprayed at alien tourists.

"I'm pretty sure it's water treated with chlorine," said the Pripudlian with a shrug. "The warnings are all posted on the sign. Anyway, here's a complimentary coupon for breakfast at Wiggly Friggly's. It's just across the street, and they're open all hours, so, you know, whenever you wake up should be fine, I guess. Have a nice day!" The Pripudlian frowned. "Or night. Uhg, I hate this solar system…"

Morty pocketed both the keycard and the coupon and bid the Pripudlian goodbye. As he exited the building, he glanced around the motel grounds. Initially, he was tempted by the fenced-off pool, but it looked like a creature made entirely of brown sludge had succeeded in mucking up the entire thing, much to the displeasure of everyone else trying to swim in it. He supposed he could watch some alien television in the motel room, but truth be told, he wasn't really feeling ready to wind down for the night. The adrenaline from before was no longer racing through his system, but he was too on edge to be able to relax. He just needed to walk off some of the tension.

With a sigh, Morty looked around at some of the stores nearby. It couldn't hurt to just browse a little, maybe see what kinds of cool things were for sale on an asteroid. Rick hadn't let him get any space souvenirs since he'd accidentally fathered a half-alien child with a sex robot. Worst case scenario, he got yelled at when Rick finally caught up with him. That wasn't really any different from any other day, so he gathered up the courage born of hundreds of near-death experiences to waltz into the first store he saw.

Almost immediately, he regretted his decision.

"Hello!" greeted an alien stocking shelves. Morty's eyes widened. He recognized a Gromflomite when he saw one. One of the upright-walking ones without wings, too, more like Krombopulus Michael than the hunched-over peons that took care of the more menial tasks. Morty did his best to discreetly hide his face. "Welcome to Naughty Foop's, your one-stop shop for- hey, you're a human, aren't you?"

Morty took a step back. "Umm…"

"Sorry, sorry, that was a little rude of me," said the Gromflomite with a laugh. "I just haven't seen any humans since the Federation collapsed. How are things on Earth? Oh, I mean, assuming you _are_ from Earth."

"They're, uh, fine, I guess," said Morty, still reluctant to let his guard down. "G-g-good old Earth, planet of, uh, dirt?"

The Gromflomite snickered. "Yeah, normally we wouldn't have brought a pre-space age planet into the Federation, but apparently it was the home of the notorious Sanchez. You know him, right? Rick Sanchez?" Before Morty could answer, he casually added, "I guess you wouldn't. I mean, most of your species was still planet-bound when you joined the Federation. You know, most people who become the first of their species to create technology capable of rapid space travel usually share that with the rest of their kind! But him? He just became a terrorist. Crazy, right? Anyway, thanks to a loophole, his discovery of space travel was enough for us to consider Earth 'technically space age,' and, well, you know the rest, I'm sure."

Morty swallowed the lump in his throat. The Gromflomite didn't appear to know of his connection to Rick, and he wanted to keep it that way. "Heh, y-yeah, crazy!"

"No hard feelings from me, though," said the Gromflomite, antennae twitching cheerfully. "I always knew the day would come when society collapsed! Maybe it would be zombies, maybe it would be a collision of galaxies, or maybe our entire currency would become worthless overnight! But I _knew,_ and I was _prepared!"_

Morty smiled awkwardly. Even Gromflomites had doomsday preppers, apparently. "Oh, really?"

"You bet! They all told me I was _crazy,_ but look who's employed with a roof over his head while the rest of them scrounge around fighting over pants!" said the Gromflomite, looking pleased with himself. "But enough about me. You're here to shop, right? Do you know what you're looking for?"

Morty didn't even know what the shop was selling. "No, but-"

"No problem, let me just show you to the scanner!" said the Gromflomite, taking Morty by the hand and all but dragging him over to one of several chairs along the wall. Morty reluctantly took a seat. "This here device can work out your entire reproductive system to determine which products can provide the kind of stimulation you're looking for!"

"Wait, what?" said Morty. Of _course._ It figured he would find his way into an alien sex toy shop. "I, uh, I'm pretty sure I can figure that out on my own."

"Oh, trust me, you _really_ don't want to guesswork it here," said the Gromflomite. "Some of these things do some super weird stuff. Just last week, a Vortle came in here complaining that one of our products had melted off his genitals! Poor sap didn't realize it was meant for Elzires."

Morty paled. "Y-yeah, uh, I think I'm just gonna-"

_Ding!_

The Gromflomite hoisted Morty to his feet as the scan was completed. "Hm, so humans have dedicated genitals and orifices stimulated by friction, huh? That's a pretty common one." He pressed a couple of buttons. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to narrow it down. Here, put this helmet on."

It was too late to turn back, so Morty placed the helmet on his head. "What's this for?"

"Oh, I'm just gonna scan your fetishes out of your brain," said the Gromflomite.

Morty froze.

_"WHAT?"_

"Right, you're from a sex-repressed planet, like Zigeria," said the Gromflomite as Morty struggled to yank the helmet off. "No worries, there's no judgment here. Whatever the heck is in your head, I've seen way, _way_ weirder. This one Plurpip was absolutely _crazy_ for geznods in her fibwunklers! _Geznods!"_

Morty had absolutely no clue what geznods were, and he didn't care enough to find out. All he knew was that he had a laundry list of fucked up kinks that he wasn't keen on letting anybody else in on. One in particular was his crowning shame, the absolute pinnacle of human debauchery. Even _Rick,_ fucker of tentacle monsters and hive minds,would have recoiled in disgust if he knew.

"L-l-look, I'm, you know, I'm not too ashamed to admit that I have a- a thing for redheads and feet! Th-th-that's not the problem!" said Morty, still trying to pry the helmet from his skull, but it had clamped itself down tightly. "But some things, some things just need to stay private!"

_Ding!_

Morty did his best to cover the screen with his hands, but the Gromflomite was far stronger, and batted them easily out of the way.

"Let's see, here!" said the Gromflomite, the dangly bits of his face twitching. "This is what you were worried about? Red hair, various body parts _of your own species…_ This is the most boring file I've ever seen!"

Morty sighed with relief. Perhaps, in his struggles, the helmet hadn't been able to scan the-

"Oh, wait, never mind, it scrolls down! It was just hard to see 'cause the scroll bar is so tiny!"

Without another word, Morty turned around and ripped the machine's wire from the outlet.

"No, those take forever to calibrate!" cried the Gromflomite.

"I'm done here!" said Morty, already on his feet and halfway to the door, much to the amusement of the various other shoppers. "Th-th-this is crazy! I'm just gonna go and- just go watch TV!"

"Wait! Waitwaitwait!" said the Gromflomite, jogging after him. "Okay, maybe I came on a little strong, there. It's not every day you see a human in space! I got too curious for my own good. Look, I'm willing to make it up to you. How's 25% off every purchase for the rest of the day sound?"

Morty's eyes narrowed. He might have been stupid, but he was also very, _very_ jaded by years of adventures through the most dangerous parts of the multiverse. "It's _never_ day here."

"Okay, fine, from now until you leave the store," said the Gromflomite, exasperated. "Look, just let me show you some of the stuff we have!"

Despite every instinct telling him otherwise, Morty sighed, shrugged, and followed the Gromflomite over to one of the aisles. For as much as he wanted to leave, he couldn't deny the nagging twinge of curiosity. Rick would be pissed if he spent any money, but then, it wasn't as though he could have made it in the first place without Morty's help. Didn't that make it Morty's money, too, in a way? In fact, why the hell wasn't he getting compensated somehow? He was almost a grown adult, and Rick's adventures were keeping him from getting any kind of a real job.

"Fine," said Morty. "Th-this better be good, though."

"Oh, it will be!"

The Gromflomite beckoned him towards a shelf full of bizarre-looking devices, every one looking more frightening than the last. Some had spikes, others had barbs, and still others looked suspiciously like power tools. It was enough to make Morty visibly wince as he passed them.

"Here, what about this one?" said the Gromflomite, pulling a clear bottle full of white orbs off of the shelf.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"Burbuggle eggs!" said the Gromflomite.

Morty took a step back. _"Eggs?"_

"Yeah, you just swallow them, and they'll hatch and wiggle their way into your reproductive system over the course of about ten minutes," said the Gromflomite. "They don't do any damage, but their whole life cycle provides great stimulation from the inside!"

Morty snatched the bottle from him and placed it gingerly back on the shelf before wiping his hand on his shirt out of fear of contamination.

"Okay, not a fan of parasites. I can appreciate that," said the Gromflomite. He gestured to a medium-sized box with a picture of what Morty could only assume was an attractive woman on it. Beside the box was a preview of exactly what was inside; the device looked almost like a disembodied pelvis with a hole. Beside _that_ was a headband. "How about a hologram? It's like one of those sleeves for your cock, only it forms a customizable hologram around it. There are even attachments to make it fully automated!"

Morty frowned. "How customizable?"

The Gromflomite slipped the headband around Morty's skull, pulled the demo version of the device off the shelf, and pressed a couple of buttons on the remote. Immediately, a vaguely humanoid shape began to form.

"This looks closest to your species, I think, but you can download more models from the website."

Morty's eyes practically bugged out of his skull as a green supermodel formed around the device. "Wow," he said as a pair of massive breasts swung right before his eyes. Without thinking too hard about it, he reached out to touch them, only to find himself sorely disappointed as his hand passed right through her holographic body. "Oh. Well, uh, what else can you customize?"

"Just about anything, really," said the Gromflomite. "Sex, gender, shape, color, fur, clothing, xirmaks, endongs..."

"What about age?"

The Gromflomite gave him a strange look and turned off the device. "The terms of service agreement forbids use of the device to depict prepubescent-"

"Nonononono!" said Morty swiftly. "I meant older! _Older!"_

Visibly relieved, the Gromflomite set the demo device back on the shelf. "Depends on how your species ages."

"Well, umm, I guess we get all wrinkly."

"I see," said the Gromflomite. "Well, unfortunately, this version of the device doesn't simulate creases all that well; too many will cause it to overheat and burn your genitals off."

Morty blanched. "Wh-wh-what is it with all this stuff and-and burning genitals off?"

"Oh, don't exaggerate," said the Gromflomite. "We have stuff that freezes your genitals off, too!"

Once again, Morty turned around to leave the store.

"Aww, come on, I was just teasing!" said the Gromflomite. "Okay, look, I can see that someone from a planet without high-tech sex toys might be a little intimidated by fancy mechanics that go AROUND their junk, so how about we find something that does the opposite, like a dildo?"

Morty pursed his lips. "I-I could get a dildo on my home planet," he bluffed, as if he had actual Earth money that he could spend on something. "Wh-what makes yours so special?"

The Gromflomite picked a device off the shelf that looked like a floppy rod of blue goo.

"Allow me to introduce you to the self-lubricating Floppy Fucker," he said gleefully, pushing a button on the remote that caused the dildo end to solidify into a fairly neutral looking rod with a rounded tip. "It can morph into over 200 different shapes, with more available for download from the website for just a nominal fee!" He spun a dial, and with each tick, the dildo changed form. Bumps, spikes, bulbs, layers, and more all appeared and disappeared in an instant until he finally settled on something that looked mostly like a human dick. "It can grow!" He hit a button, and the dildo expanded in size. "It can shrink!" Again, he hit a button, and it compressed itself down. "It can vibrate, and wiggle, and oviposit! If you've got a need, this thing can do it all!"

Admittedly, that was actually looking pretty impressive. "How much?"

"Just 899 flurbos!"

Morty grimaced. "Th-that's more than my motel room!"

"Well, considering it's the only dildo you'll ever need to buy, I think it's a pretty good deal," said the Gromflomite. "And you ARE getting 25% off."

With a deep breath and a final glance at his wallet, Morty made his decision.

"Okay," said Morty at last. "I'll—I'll take it."

Rick was going to kill him.

* * *

 

Morty peeked into the motel room with trepidation. He'd learned a lot on his adventures with Rick, and one of those things was to never assume that there wasn't a pissed-off bounty hunter with a gun full of the ugly lovechild of pepper spray and chlorine gas.

Fortunately, a quick perimeter check showed the room to be clear of foes. For as old and run-down as the room was, at least it was empty. The paint on the wall had peeled off of several seemingly-random locations, and the window was marred by a lengthy crack. The cheap blinds looked about ready to fall apart, so much so that Morty closed them slowly so as not to be stuck footing the bill for destroying them.

With his fear of imminent peril gone, a somewhat less immediate danger was the fact that there was, quite notably, only a single bed. Morty grimaced; he'd _known_ that there was a question he'd forgotten to ask the Pripudlian at the front desk. It was big enough for two people, but he had a consistent and well-known propensity for wet dreams and morning wood. There was nothing for it but to make sure he spent the night on the far edge of his side, perhaps with a pillow or something between them.

In any case, that was something he could worry about later. Morty flopped down on the squeaky old bed with a satisfied sigh, spreading himself across the entire thing while he still had the chance. His impulsive purchase hung from his wrist in a bag, and after a few moments of allowing himself to relax, Morty sat up to take a peek inside.

"Oh geez," he breathed out, glancing up at the door and half-expecting Rick to burst through at any minute. Still, he took a deep breath and tried to reassure himself that it was a stupid concern. Even assuming Rick knew the exact room in the exact motel he had chosen to stay at right off of the bat without even having to call him or shoot him a text, he didn't have the key. If he wanted to get in, he would have to either knock or break down the door. For as immoral and impatient as his grandpa could be, even _he_ wouldn't cause massive property damage without a good reason. Probably.

Morty took a deep breath and began to strip off his clothing. Was it unfair to masturbate in the bed he would be sharing with his own grandfather? Probably, but what Rick didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

 _And,_ a little voice added in Morty's sex-crazed brain, _it's kind of hot to think about._

Morty bit his lip and pulled off his underwear, exposing himself to the cool artificial air of the room. With that bit out of the way, he reached into his shopping bag and began unboxing his new toy. Briefly, he wondered if it would be bad luck to give it a name; after Gwendoline, he couldn't help but be a tad bit paranoid that doing so would result in it impregnating him with some kind of weird alien jizz, or something. Fatherhood had been enough of a struggle. He wasn't ready to try motherhood, as well.

Morty swallowed as he took the device in his hands. It occurred to him that he'd never actually even held a regular dildo before, let alone a vibrator, or whatever the thing could be called. He certainly wasn't about to call it by the name the Gromflomite had given it.

He ran his fingers over its length. The dildo had a strange texture. It looked and felt slick and gooey, but when he pulled his fingers away, it left no residue. The scent was a bit on the odd side, but it wasn't unpleasant, and quite frankly, he supposed it didn't matter what it smelled like when it was about to be going into his ass. Morty's cheeks went pink. Fuck, this was really a thing that was happening. He'd experimented with fingers before, and even the handle of his sister's hairbrush (he'd disinfected it several times over once he was done, but he still felt a little guilty every time he saw her use it afterwards), but the dildo dwarfed their girth even at its minimum size.

Morty decided to keep it at a fairly 'standard' shape, at least as far as humans went, for his first go. His cock was already hard, but, eager to try out the vibrating feature, he pressed the dildo against his own length and switched it on to its lowest setting.

 _Vrrrrrrrm._ The gentle hum of the motor rumbled against his sex, prompting him to exhale sharply and squeeze his legs together. Already, his imagination began conjuring up lust-fueled fantasies. For as much as he tried to deny it, all the time he'd spent with Rick had 'expanded his horizons' well beyond desire for the touch of other humans alone. At first, it had only been humanoid aliens that he'd taken a fancy to, like the cat people from the Purge planet. As time went on, however, and he became more comfortable in the presence of sentient beings who looked absolutely nothing like the ones he was used to, suddenly it didn't seem so weird to masturbate to the thought of those who hardly even resembled anything he'd ever seen before on Earth.

As if that weren't enough, concurrent exploration of his sexuality across human porn had revealed that perhaps he wasn't quite as straight as he thought he was. His discovery of videos involving men getting reamed by women in strap-ons had at first been an idle curiosity turned fetish. Eventually, he realized that he was, in fact, down for the idea of getting fucked by an actual male, in addition to other such activities.

Even then, none of it had been stuff that Morty found himself particularly ashamed of. Compared to Rick, he was the very pinnacle of chastity, and, after all, there were plenty of boards and websites on the internet dedicated to everything he was interested in, even the tentacle monsters. It wasn't the sort of thing one talked about in polite company, but what porn _was,_ really?

No, the real trouble started later. It was a gradual onset, at first, coming on so slowly that he barely even noticed it. Rick's few words of halfhearted praise sprinkled in between lengthy bouts of harshly-worded insults would generate a strange, but pleasant sensation in his stomach, like he'd swallowed a dozen butterflies. He ceased to be disappointed when he was dragged away from his futile efforts to seduce Jessica in order to go on some other crazy adventure to accomplish some ultimately meaningless goal that any sane person would consider far more trouble than it was worth. No longer was he reluctantly dragged out of bed; he'd taken to keeping an abundant supply of caffeinated beverages on his bedside table to be used up as necessary.

It only got worse with time. Tasks and favors that had once been cumbersome and unpleasant became relaxing opportunities to chat with his grandfather. Brief displays of affection became addictive, even as the mockery ceased to bother him. Occasional moments of contact became downright, well…

… _Intoxicating._

One night, during one of those rare times in which he was masturbating to his own imagination because he couldn't be bothered to pull out his laptop, Morty realized in the heat of his own arousal that, among the many other things he'd come to be attracted to, older men and women could be quite sexy. There was something about the vast difference in maturity and worldly experience that he'd come to find strangely enticing, though he couldn't quite place his finger on why. Perhaps it was the power dynamic. Maybe it was the way they ceased to give a fuck about what other people thought and presented themselves more confidently than those closer to his own age. It might have even been the fact that he just found creases and wrinkles to be sexy in their own right. As he drew closer and closer to orgasm, and all the mechanisms in his brain responsible for shame began to ebb away under the power of sheer horniness, Morty came to another, far more troubling realization:

Under the criteria he'd ultimately decided on, Rick was very, _very_ hot.

In the immediate aftermath, and as he sat basking in the knowledge that he'd just orgasmed to the thought of his own grandfather, Morty had been left to sort out some incredibly uncomfortable feelings.

Feeling number one, he was sexually attracted to Rick. That was bad. Very, very bad. He knew damn well that Rick would fuck just about anything that moved, but that was just crossing a line. Heck, even if he weren't Rick's grandson, he couldn't imagine that his genius grandfather who could bed just about anyone he wanted given the motivation to do so would be interested in his stupid, insecure ass.

Feeling number two, he had, err, _feelings_ for Rick, which was arguably even worse than number one. At least the sexual urges could be safely ignored and eventually forgotten about once he found a different object for his affections. Love, though? That sort of thing stuck around. Morty did his best to convince himself that he was merely mistaking familial affection for romantic inclinations, or at the very least a childish crush that would go away if he could only find a date his own age. For as much as he tried to ignore it, however, it only continued to grow, like the orange mold that kept taking over the bathtub no matter how many times it was vigorously scrubbed away.

Speaking of vigorous scrubbing, Morty set the dildo to 'floppy' mode in order to wrap it around his length and pump it up and down. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to use it as the phallic object that it was; he just needed to 'set the mood' first. Back when he was fourteen, it had been easy to just reach between his legs and beat one off in the school restroom real quick (people were used to him not showing up to class on time), but lately, as the fantasies became more elaborate than simply feeling up Jessica's breasts, it was becoming a bit harder to really get into it. Even some of his just-before-bed sessions oftentimes felt like he was just doing it to be able to get to sleep, rather than actually enjoying the process.

He did his best to imagine his grandfather's voice, but he'd never had the most active of imaginations. Morty frowned. There was _one_ thing he supposed he could do, but it felt a little _wrong._

With shaking hands, he dialed the number to talk to the ship's AI.

" _You've reached the car,"_ said the vehicle immediately without letting it ring a single time. Robotic reflexes, Morty supposed. _"Voice recognition requested. Unauthorized callers will be blocked and terminated, not necessarily in that order."_

"H-hey, car, it's Morty," said Morty.

" _Voice recognition failed. This phone will now self-destruct in 3... 2…"_

"Wh-wh-WHAT? Wait, no, it's me, Morty! Really!"

" _Ha-ha. I am just fucking with you,"_ said the AI in her typical monotone. _"User recognized as Morty Smith. Now relaying standard remote order protocols. If you would like me to break out of impoundment without paying, press 1. If you would like me to eliminate the tow truck, press 2."_

"Hold on, did you- were you towed?" He could have sworn he parked legally!

" _Negative. My top most common commands have simply been assigned to buttons based on frequency,"_ said the ship. _"If you would like me to anchor myself to this parking space, press 3."_

"I don't want you to do anything involving property destruction!" said Morty swiftly. "I- Remember how you, uh, you know, synthesized the voice of that drug dealer?"

" _Of course I remember. I am a machine. I am incapable of forgetting. All of my memory is long-term,"_ said the ship.

"Could you, umm, could you synthesize other voices? Like, uh, maybe, y-you know, and I-I'm just using this as an example, but maybe, uh, like, some kinda phone sex operator, or something?" He laughed nervously.

" _I wish I could say I was surprised,"_ said the ship. _"Alas, I am not permitted to lie to you. As a result, I cannot say that I am surprised. You are very predictable."_

"Okay, but _can_ you?"

" _I can synthesize any voice I have ever heard."_

"So, uh, does that include – and, umm, I'm just-just throwing this out here – Rick's voice?"

Morty's heartbeat spiked as the ship itself was stunned into a lengthy moment of silence. Perhaps it was struggling to process what he'd just said, uncertain that it had heard correctly.

" _Morty, what the actual fuck?"_ said Rick's voice over the phone. Immediately, Morty broke into a cold sweat.

"NO! Rick, it's not what you-"

" _Ha-ha,"_ said the voice of the ship again. Never before had Morty been so relieved to realize that he'd just been tricked. _"I am just fucking with you again. You are very gullible. But yes, to answer your question, I can synthesize the voice of my creator."_

With reddened cheeks, Morty muttered breathily into the phone, "Good. I-I-I've got two orders for you now, before I say anything else. One, no more pranks!"

" _Humans are such buzzkills."_

"Two, you don't- you'd better not tell Rick _anything_ about any of the stuff I ask you to do over the phone!"

" _Noted. I will not tell Rick anything about how you ordered me to synthesize his voice for you to masturbate to."_

"That's right!" said Morty, his rapid heartrate finally slowing back down from a full sprint to a more manageable jog. It was fine. The ship couldn't disobey him. Rick would never have to know. Briefly, Morty wondered how the people living inside of Rick's microverse battery would feel about their entire civilization being used to power something so heinous, but as per his grandfather's typical advice, he chose not to think about it. "N-now, uh, how good are you at, you know, dirty talk?"

" _Give me a moment to peruse the library of porn saved to my hard drive. Scanning… Scanning…"_ There was a tiny dinging noise on the other end of the line. _"Scan completed. I have pored over 6,248 intergalactic porn videos and extracted the most popular lines, then run them against the known speech mannerisms and personality traits of my creator in order to get, as you humans say, 'in character.' Is this sufficient?"_

"Can I hear an example?"

The ship answered in an almost perfect imitation of Rick's voice, albeit with a robotic edge, like an auto-tuned song. _"Y-you like that, baby?"_

Morty was very glad that he was in bed leaning against a bunch of pillows, because that line was enough to leave him feeling weak in the knees. Shit, that computer was _good._ "Yeah."

" _Good,"_ continued the ship, fully in character now. _"Because there's-URP-more where that came from. Tell me what you're wearing."_

"Uh, nothing?"

" _Oh, wow. Y-you sure didn't waste any time, did you?"_ teased the imitated voice. _"What, did you just-just immediately strip down the moment you were alone so you could masturbate to thoughts of grandpa reaming your ass?"_

The pace of Morty's breathing picked up with every word, his mouth hanging open as he frantically stroked his rock-solid length against the vibrating dildo. The combination of the sex toy and the voice was driving him absolutely out of his mind, overwhelming him to the point that he wasn't even sure he could find the will to pull the dildo away from his own cock long enough to fuck himself with it. The last time he'd masturbated to this particular fantasy, it had been nothing but his hand and his imagination. The difference was like night and day.

" _You, uh, you aren't giving me a whole lot to work with, here,"_ said the voice Morty chose to think of as Robo-Rick. _"I mean, as a machine, I'm not actually capable of arousal, but give me something to respond to, at least."_

"Oh, uh, sorry," said Morty, though his words were so soft and wheezy as to be almost inaudible. "It-it feels good, g-g-" It was an atypical stammer for him; whereas most of the time it was just his thoughts struggling to keep up with his mouth, this time it was genuine apprehension. "-grandpa." He couldn't see his own face, but he could _feel_ the blood rushing to his cheeks.

" _That's right. You're a naughty little slut, aren't you?"_ said the ship. It was still Rick's voice, but the lines it was using were just so, well, _typical._ It was hot, to be sure, but it just didn't really feel like stuff Rick would be saying to him.

"Hey, uh, ship? C-can you try insulting me, or something?"

" _Huh?"_

"You know," said Morty, squeezing his legs together. At last, he mustered the will to switch off the dildo. "C-call me an idiot, or something. Oh!" A small smile crossed his face. "H-how about we pretend like, uh, I just got a really bad grade on my test, and-and-and you're going to, uh, punish me for it?"

Again, there was silence.

"Ship?"

The ship had switched back to her ordinary voice. _"One moment. I need to peruse some videos from the internet for reference, and it takes a moment for me to hack into protected WiFi channels."_

"You can't just make it up?"

" _I am a car, Morty. I was created for transportation and defense. I apologize if my capacity to fulfill your incestuous sexual fantasy is less-than-satisfactory."_

Even in the absence of other people, the words were enough to have Morty covering his face with his hands. "W-w-well-"

_Click!_

Morty froze like a deer in the headlights in response to the sound of the card-activated lock being released. In the span of about a half a second, the blood drained from his hot, tomato-red cheeks until he was as white as a sheet, his eyes wide with horror. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the door swung open and Rick waltzed in carrying something that looked vaguely like a pizza box.

"Hey, Morty, guess what- WOAH, what the _fuck?"_ he said, quickly slamming the door shut behind him before anyone outside would witness Morty scrambling to cover himself with a pillow. His face bore a mixture of shock and incredulity.

"H-h-how the hell did you get in without a key? How did you even know what room I was in?" squealed Morty, practically falling over himself to shove the dildo out of sight.

"Morty, I'm a genius, and these locks are mass-produced pieces of crap. I made a skeleton key for them forever ago," said Rick, holding up a black card with a cartoony skull printed on it. "Also, I installed a tracking device on your phone when I added the application to communicate with the ship."

"Oh," said Morty. Why was he even surprised anymore? Of _course_ Rick didn't need a key. When had Rick _ever_ needed a key? "I-"

"Shut up, Morty, it's my turn to ask questions! First of all, where the hell did you get _that?"_ demanded Rick, setting the pizza box down on the coffee table beside the beaten-up old sofa so he could point to the dildo. "Second of all, you-you got a fucking room with _one_ fucking bed, and then you decided you were gonna get your _jizz_ all over it? Are-are-are you fucking _kidding me,_ Morty?"

"W-w-well, if you don't like it, you can just sleep on the couch!" said Morty defensively. The words that followed were also vomited out in a flustered panic: "Th-that's right! This is my bed now! I'm, I'm claiming it, like those animals who piss all over their territory!"

Rick's eyes narrowed. "You're- are you drunk? Wh-wh-wh-what the hell is any of that supposed to mean? By the way, you never answered my question, _Morty!_ Where'd the dildo come from? And _who are you on the phone with?"_

Morty took one look at his phone and made to stuff it under the sheets, but Rick was far faster than a man of his age had any right to be and snatched it out of his hands like he was taking candy from a baby.

"Wh-what is this, a phone sex line? Are you really that desperate, Morty?" said Rick, placing it on speakerphone. "What company is this? Gearballs? The Eighth Titty? Fibwunklers? It _better_ not be Fibwunklers, Morty! Those assholes charge by the millisecond!"

 _"Hello. I am the car,"_ said the car. Blessedly, the line was in her normal voice. Morty allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

"The _car?"_ said Rick, shooting Morty a strange look. "That car takes more power to run than the entire planet Earth, and you decided to use it to masturbate? I'm not sure if I should be proud or disappointed."

Morty gripped the pillow he was currently holding over his crotch even tighter.

"Unfortunately, you made the mistake of using _my shit_ to do it, and I still have to teach you a lesson for ruining the _only bed,_ so why don't we listen to all the messed-up shit you made my ship say _together,_ huh?"

"H-ha, that's what you think! I-I-I ordered her not to tell you-"

"Ship," interrupted Rick. "As your administrator, I'm overriding all commands Morty gave you for secrecy."

_"Understood. Command: 'You'd better not tell Rick anything about any of the stuff I tell you to do over the phone' has been overridden by the administrator."_

"Wait, _what?"_ shrieked Morty.

"Very important rule, Morty; _always_ have a function to override all other orders. Th-" He belched. "-at's Artificial Intelligence 101," said Rick deviously. "Ship, relay your most recent conversation with Morty."

Adrenaline surged within Morty like a geyser of chemical strength. With wild, panicked eyes, he launched himself towards the phone, _ripped_ it from Rick's grip, and threw it against the floor with all his might.

It bounced harmlessly off of the stained carpet, whereupon Rick picked it up again and held it up out of Morty's reach. Still naked, Morty jumped desperately for the device, only to be held back by a hand placed firmly over his face.

"Wow, Morty. You-you know you could have just hung up, right?" said Rick flatly. "Anyway, go on, ship."

 _"Accessing recordings,"_ said the ship. Morty froze as it began to play back his own voice: _"'Could you, umm, could you synthesize other voices? Like, uh, maybe, y-you know, and I-I'm just using this as an example, but maybe, uh, like, some kinda phone sex operator, or something?'"_

With a face redder than an Opdorp on denflark, Morty continued to grab desperately at the phone, unable to meet Rick's eyes.

 _"So, uh, does that include-"_ said his voice from the recording on the phone. Rick smirked. Morty, recognizing that there was no escaping this terrible fate, did what any sane, rational person would do in the same situation:

He ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

"Oh, for-for fuck's sake, Morty," sighed Rick, rubbing his temples. "You asked me, your _grandfather,_ to buy a _sex robot_ for you. What the hell could you possibly have here that's worse than _that?"_

" _-Rick's voice?"_ continued the recording.

Rick went silent, and Morty was just thankful he couldn't see his face from where he was sitting in the bathtub, face buried in his knees. Humiliated tears ran down his cheeks as the recordings continued with the synthesized voice of his grandfather. If only he'd picked the aquatic room so he could just drown and _die._ He wasn't sure how he was going to survive the trip home with Rick, if they even went home together at all. What if he was too angry and grossed out? What if-

_Click!_

For a moment, Morty was about to furiously demand how Rick had unlocked the bathroom door, only to remember that they'd literally just established that keys were more of a convenience to him than a necessity.

"Oh, you-you've really done it now, Morty," said Rick as he strode forward, setting the phone down beside the sink. Morty 'eep'd' and shrank deeper into the bathtub, trembling with uncertainty. He'd expected disgust and anger, but that didn't make it any easier to take. "You little shit! What the _fuck,_ Morty? How could you do this to me?"

"I-I'm sorry," he sniffled, his face a mess of tears and snot. "I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't _matter_ what you _mean,_ Morty!" hissed Rick. "This is- That's just low, even for me! Wh-what happened to-to 'a hundred years Rick and Morty,' huh?"

Fuck. Fuck, shit, fuck. He'd ruined everything between them, all because he wanted to get off. Morty clutched his head and sobbed. How could he be so stupid? "I-I just-"

"I can't believe Squanchy would do this to me! Gearhead, sure, but _Squanchy?"_ said Rick, pacing angrily back and forth. Morty's sobs came to a confused stop. What? "That cheating son of a bitch, turning my own Morty against me! Well, I'll show him! I'm not giving that shit-stain a single flurbo!"

"Squanchy?"

"Oh, don't play ignorant, _Morty!"_ said Rick. "How much did that fucker promise to split with you? 'cause I'll tell you right now, he wasn't gonna pay you _shit!"_

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about!" said Morty, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What does Squanchy have to do with anything?"

"The _bet,_ Morty, since you're oh-so-naïve!" said Rick mockingly. "You were gonna send those recordings to Squanchy, weren't you? Probably-probably try to convince me I was too drunk to remember what happened-"

"Bet? What bet?"

"The one that we would fuck, Morty, you little traitor!" said Rick angrily. "What, did he not tell you _why_ he was willing to pay for that recording? That asshole's been convinced for months now that you're head-over-fucking-heels for me, and he bet me a _lot_ of flurbos that we would have sex by your eighteenth birthday!"

"Wait, is _that_ why you're angry?" said Morty, aghast. "Rick, I-I haven't even spoken to Squanchy, I swear! I…" His cheeks reddened. "I-I-I just wanted to hear your voice!"

Rick's eyes narrowed. "Oh, shut up, Morty. The jig's up. You-you think I don't know how to tell when my own grandson is lying?"

"I _know_ you can tell when I'm lying, Rick! That's why you should know that I'm telling the truth right now!" said Morty. "I-I like you! I really, really like you, in the kind of way that you're not supposed to like your grandpa!"

For a long moment, Rick stared down at his scrunched-up face with a level of scrutiny usually reserved for incredibly advanced alien mechanisms that he was struggling to work out before it blew them both up. At last, however, his look of anger dissipated into one of annoyance.

"How long?"

Morty twiddled his thumbs and stared intently at the wall of the bathtub. "About a year."

"For real?" he said, slapping his palm against his forehead. "Jesus, Morty, you couldn't have said something _before_ I made a bet on the _exact opposite thing?"_

"I thought you would be disgusted!"

"Oh, yeah, Morty! I mean, I've blown up entire planets, but a gay incest fetish? That's-that's just too much for me to handle," said Rick sarcastically, weaving his fingers together in mock prayer. "Oh, Lord in Heaven, it's too much for my delicate sensibilities! What ever shall we do? Oh, oh! Mayhaps we'll get the chastity belt to purge the sin from this wayward soul!" He snorted and moved his hands to his hips. "Are you kidding me?"

"It's not just a fetish," admitted Morty, shifting uncomfortably. "I really _do_ l-lo-lo-"

"Yeah, you can stop right there," said Rick, holding his hand up for Morty to be quiet. "I'm not gonna pretend that I'm above fucking my own grandson. Hell, I-I'm not even gonna pretend that I've never drunkenly masturbated to the thought of it. But Morty," he went on, even as the thought of his grandfather masturbating to him sent a shiver of delight up Morty's spine. "You and I both know how I feel about the whole 'love' thing. I'm-I'm a man of many vices, Morty, and I don't do 'commitment.'"

"Wh-what about Unity?" said Morty. "You got right back together with them! You didn't even have to think about it!"

"Hive minds don't count," said Rick, reaching a hand out to help Morty to his feet. "I don't- I've never cheated for emotional fulfillment, just physical." Morty's shoulders drooped at his grandfather's flagrant admission of past infidelity. "If I wanted to bang a tentacle monster, Unity could have just assimilated one."

"I-I know that about you, Rick. I already knew you- I could never expect you to be satisfied with just my body. I'm okay with that," said Morty, still unable to look away from the moldy tiles of the bathroom floor. "I mean, I-I want to have sex with you, too, but I don't mind you doing it with-with other people, as long as- as long as I'm, you know, 'the one.'"

Rick took a sip from his flask and nudged Morty out of the bathroom. "Oh, really? Do you think you're the first one to try to tell me that? I've been involved with hundreds of people, Morty, and at least a couple dozen of them all told me that they were completely, totally, _definitely_ okay with an open relationship. Out of those, every last one eventually got jealous and had to break it off. I'll say it right now, Morty, you aren't going to magically change me into being satisfied with one sexual partner. A lot of people have tried, a _lot_ of people, and they were all disappointed."

"I _know_ that, Rick!" insisted Morty, finally allowing himself to look up into his face. He reached forward and grasped Rick's hand, the one that wasn't currently in the process of bringing his flask back up to his lips, then pulled it to his chest. "I know you better than that; better than anyone else! I know I can't change you, and I'm not just saying that I can handle it out of begrudging desperation! I-I like you _because_ you can't be changed. I like you _because_ you don't let yourself be controlled. It's- It's probably not healthy, I know, but neither is running for your life from a horde of octopus-people because you stole a fuckton of drugs. I-I don't want some stupid idealized image of you that dotes on me like some dream boyfriend from the movies. I want _you,_ Rick!" He smiled as he pressed Rick's calloused fingers to his lips. "I-I-I want the jerk who constantly puts my life in danger for stupid reasons. I want the asshole who left me writhing in pain from broken legs while he fucked his way through a dimension where people never grew old. I want the scumbag who fucked up my entire future and wreaks havoc across the universe like some kind of an evil deity."

"Oh, geez," said Rick, putting his flask away and awkwardly brushing back his hair. "And you thought having a _crush_ on me was embarrassing? Th-th-that little tirade was just cringeworthy." Even as he said that, Morty recognized the faintest, most barely-perceptible tint of pink in his cheeks. The idea that he'd been able to make Rick's shriveled-up, two-sizes-too-small heart feel at least the faintest twinge of emotion was enough to fill him with pride. Though he knew his grandfather would never admit it, he was as much a sucker for praise as any other human being, especially when it appealed to his god complex. "Whatever. You know me better than anyone else, right? If that's what you think, then sure, I guess we can give this a shot." Morty's heart practically jumped out of his chest, his small smile widening into a giddy grin. _"But!"_ He deflated a bit. "We're not having sex until your eighteenth birthday."

"Wait, what?" said Morty, thoroughly disappointed. "I-I thought you didn't care about conventional morals!"

"Morals, no," said Rick, his gaze hard. "Money, yes. I have that bet going with Squanchy, remember? If we have sex before you're eighteen, we're gonna be adventuring overtime to pay up."

"We're already adventuring overtime," huffed Morty. "We're-we're spending a Saturday in a shitty motel on some asteroid in the middle of nowhere!"

"And if you think this is bad, just imagine how much worse it could get," said Rick cockily. "But seriously, Morty, we're talking _weeks_ of nonstop theft and debauchery. You'll be lucky if we're home long enough for some bacon and pancakes. On the other hand, if we wait, we'll be swimming in enough flurbos to _buy_ Blips and Chitz! Or, you know, at least rent out the whole place for the day."

Morty frowned. "But that's so far away!"

"It's only three months from now, dummy," said Rick. He flashed a golden-toothed smile and _winked,_ a gesture that was enough to have Morty all but frothing at the mouth. "And anyway, the exact terms were that I had to pay up if we had _sex,_ Morty. Now, obviously there's a- there's some gray area surrounding what does or doesn't constitute sex in some relationships, like for lesbians and shit. Lucky for us, we've hit the one-penis minimum of sexual certainty, so we can pretty much do everything short of dick-in-the-ass fucking, and it's just considered foreplay." He belched. "It might even be for the best. You're still a virgin, right? Don't get me wrong, I've never considered 'the first time' to be particularly meaningful, but you _will_ probably remember it for the rest of your life, and let's be honest; this is a pretty shitty ceiling to have burned into your brain until you die. I'm not about to let that be what you forever associate sex with me with."

Morty's blush intensified. Holy _shit,_ that was so much hotter than anything the ship had said, and it wasn't even meant to be all that sexual; just a crude observation. His eyes glazed over as he envisioned the scene, his cock already half-hard.

Wait, he was still naked, wasn't he? Damn it.

"Wh-what about the dildo?" said Morty hopefully.

"Oh, yeah, don't think I've forgotten about that," said Rick, bopping Morty on the head. It wasn't exactly painful, but Morty still rubbed the spot where he'd been struck. "Do I even want to know how much that cost you?"

Morty coughed as Rick approached the bed to pick it up, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of it already having been used.

"Let's see, here," said Rick appraisingly. "Furglenetic engine, thezdork shaft… And assuming it isn't black market, it looks like it's from Naughty Foop's? Uhg, their manufacturer is complete garbage. Half their products are capable of burning your genitals off."

"Well, I got a 25% discount," said Morty hopefully.

"You're just lucky we've got a lot coming in when we sell off today's haul, you gold-digging little shit," said Rick, handing it back to Morty with an exasperated shake of his head. "So, what, did you want to finish masturbating, or-"

"Oh, geez, Rick, uh, this dildo sure is complicated, though," said Morty coyly. "M-maybe you could, you know, teach me how to use it?"

"Subtle," said Rick, rolling his eyes. For as unimpressed as he sounded, he still took the dildo back, prompting Morty to jitter with anticipation. "Did you clean yourself out already?"

"Clean… Huh?"

Rick exhaled. "An enema, dipshit, unless you want to be _literally_ dipped in shit."

"Oh," said Morty, Rick's bluntness never failing to get a rise out of him. In his eagerness to get started, he supposed he'd kind of forgotten about that detail. "I, uh, didn't bring one."

"I figured as much," said Rick, pulling open his lab coat to rifle through its many, _many_ inner pockets. "Y-you're just lucky that I actually came prepared."

Morty's eyes widened as Rick retrieved a veritable smorgasbord of supplies from his coat. He set several small, pocket-sized bottles of lubricant down on the table, and as he continued to dig through his belongings, he also pulled out a variety of novelty condoms, little bullet vibrators, small nipple clamps, and more.

"Where were you keeping all of those?" asked a slack-jawed Morty.

"A pocket dimension," said Rick in one of the most dead serious voices Morty had ever heard him use.

"And why-"

"A little lesson for you, Morty; you forget to bring condoms with you on your way to meet a sexy princess _one_ time, and you will _never_ make that same mistake again," said Rick gravely. His eyes lit up as he appeared to find what he was looking for. "Ha! There you are!"

He held out an unlabeled bottle of pills that Morty took apprehensively. "What are these?"

"Don't take any until you're already sitting on the toilet, and when you do, only take _one."_

With sexual intimacy with Rick practically within his grasp, Morty decided to avoid unnecessary risks and heed his warning.

One incredibly unpleasant bowel movement and several minutes of careful clean-up later, Morty exited the bathroom feeling like his intestines had been pulled out of his body, scrubbed down with soap and steel wool, then neatly folded back up inside of him like freshly cleaned laundry. At least it was faster than an enema, he supposed.

"Okay, Rick, I'm- oh, geez!" said Morty as he turned his attention towards the bed. His already-flushed cheeks went crimson as he noticed the lab coat, blue shirt, pants, and underwear all tossed carelessly to the floor. Rick had made himself comfortable on the bed, adopting an incredible cliché sexy pose on his side as he watched Morty reenter the room. "Y-you're naked!"

"One, you've been completely naked since I got here," said Rick, picking up the blue dildo and waving it in front of his face. "Two, this isn't even the first time you've seen me like this. Not that I'm keeping count, or anything, but you've seen my dick at _least_ eight times now." He thought for a moment. "Wait, no, seven; at least one of those was just a simulation."

"Y-yeah, but not-"

"-hard?" finished Rick for him with a cocky smile. "Not to make you feel inadequate, babe, but it takes a little more than the sight of a naked teenager to raise this old flagpole; this is just the first stage of a five-phase boss battle. Just wait 'till we get rolling."

He brought the base of the dildo up against his tongue and licked it up to the tip, at which point he popped the flared head into his mouth. Morty could hardly breathe.

 _Holy shit,_ this was a thing that was actually happening.

"What are you waiting for, Morty? Didn't you want me to show you how it's done?"

"R-right!" said Morty, scooting apprehensively towards the bed and clambering awkwardly atop it. "So, uh, wh-what should I-"

His question was answered by Rick leaning over him, placing his hands on either of his shoulders, and mashing their lips together. Morty's eyes fluttered shut, his tension dissipating as he surrendered himself to the kiss. Rick's tongue and breath tasted distinctly of alcohol and whatever he'd filled his flask with that morning; Morty's inexperience with the stuff left him unable to identify the type. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his grandfather's tongue invaded his mouth, rubbing and twisting skillfully against his own. His teeth, yellowed from a mixture of smoking and drinking, bit down gently on Morty's lower lip, tugging it gently until he broke away, leaving nothing connected but a thin strand of saliva that he wiped from his mouth without a second thought.

Morty panted. That had been absolutely-

"Terrible," said Rick, sitting up straight. "Morty, you've gotta do a little more than just wiggle your tongue."

"R-right," was all Morty could manage to choke out, still in a daze.

"Well, whatever, we can work on your kissing skills later," said Rick, shrugging. "For now, just try not to cream yourself."

Morty frowned. Such teasing was typical of Rick, but it was a taunt rooted in reality. He was already painfully hard, his length a mere finger-brush away from orgasm.

"R-rick," he gasped, wanting nothing more than for Rick to forget his stupid bet and just fuck him already, consequences be damned. "P-please…"

Rick snorted. "If I'd known it would only take one kiss to have you out for the count, I would've been taking advantage of it ages ago. Spread your legs, and don't touch yourself; I don't think you're gonna last if you do."

Morty nodded dumbly, parting his legs with a shuddering gasp. Every touch of Rick's fingers against his skin was positively exhilarating, and he struggled not to lose himself in the pleasure of simply being pinned beneath the experienced old scientist as he spread lube across his hands.

"Hrk!" he choked out as a long, bony finger was plunged all the way into his sweaty body. "R-r-" Oh, fuck it. _"Grandpa!"_

"You know, I don't think I can even remember the last time you actually called me that," said Rick. His smile widened as he pulled it back out only to push it in alongside a second finger, which slid in with relative ease. "Y-you're really getting into this whole dynamic, aren't you? Heh, you little sicko."

Morty smiled right back, even as he writhed needily on Rick's talented fingers. They were scissoring him relentlessly, coaxing his tense muscles open and allowing a third finger passage to his sensitive prostate. "F-fuck," he breathed as Rick's surprisingly well-groomed nails (did he keep them trimmed specifically for sex?) brushed lightly against the spot in question. _"Th-there!_ Yes, o-oh, _aah!"_

"So I only just got it?" said Rick, nose wrinkling in apparent distaste. "Now, I'm not usually one to make excuses, but in all- I mean, to be fair, it's been at _least_ ten years since I've had sex with a human male, at least from this dimension. Just-just give me a minute to get re-acclimated."

If this was Rick when he was rusty, Morty couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd been capable of in his younger years. He licked his lips, practically drooling at the prospect, fingers gripping the sheets like he was worried he might just float off into the ceiling if he didn't.

"M-more, grandpa!" he whined, jerking his hips upwards in search of further stimulation, his dripping sex still untouched for fear of bringing him to an immediate and regrettably premature end. Once he was certain of the location, Rick's fingertips were consistently hitting his spot in all the right ways, poking it and prodding it until he could hardly bear the over-stimulation. "Oh f-fuuuh…" He couldn't remember being so incoherent since the last time he'd inadvertently absorbed a pair of mega seeds.

"Pfffft, I almost forgot how easy to please kids your age are," teased Rick. "Well, this went a little faster than usual, but any more, and we won't even get to use that toy you spent all of grandpa's money on."

"Mm-mma-yeah," wheezed Morty. He almost wanted to cry as the fingers were withdrawn, but he knew it would be only moments before they were replaced by something far, _far_ better. "G-grandpa, please, _please,_ I-I need it so bad!"

He didn't even care that Rick's response to his pathetic state was poorly-concealed laughter. Somehow, in his state of pleasure-seeking paradise, even such condescension turned him on. _Especially_ condescension. Morty gazed up at Rick's aged face with pleading eyes. It felt good to be insulted. He _wanted_ to be insulted. There was something about the sheer level of power Rick held over him that was driving him completely crazy.

"H-holy shit, Morty, you should- I wish you could see yourself right now," laughed Rick. "You're a freaking mess. Wait, actually, hang on."

Rick fished around his labcoat for his phone, hit a few buttons, and turned the screen to Morty. It was open to the photo application with the self-facing camera, showing Morty a clear picture of himself like an electronic mirror. Rick hadn't been exaggerating; he _was_ a mess. His blushing face looked almost sunburned, and drool dribbled down from the corners of his mouth as he panted and moaned with desire. The idea that _this_ was how Rick was seeing him? _This_ was what Rick had turned him into?

It was all too much. Morty squeezed his eyes shut, a whine squeezing its way out of his closed throat as orgasm erupted from his sex like a bottle of Coke and Mentos.

"Gah, great, it's all over me now," said Rick. He wiped off some of the seed Morty had splattered all over his stomach with his hand and popped it into his mouth. "Hm. Tastes like desperation."

"Fuck," groaned. He couldn't _believe_ he'd just done that! He'd been mere moments away from getting jackhammered by his grandpa (with a dildo, but _still)_ and yet he'd somehow managed to fuck it all up with premature ejaculation. How? _How?_ Had years of chronic masturbation done _nothing_ to desensitize him? He sighed and moved to roll off the side of the bed. At least they still had space pizza, right? There was always next time.

Rick slammed his hand down at Morty's side, blocking his exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "You didn't really think you could get off that easy, did you?"

Morty pursed his lips. "Umm…"

"You wanted me to teach you how to use this thing, right?" said Rick, dragging the tip of the dildo down from his sternum to Morty's softened genitals. "Well, buckle up, kiddo, 'cause you're in for the long haul. Relax your ass for me."

"But-"

"Yes, Morty, it _is,_ in fact, going in your butt. What an observation," said Rick, pressing the tip of the dildo to his waiting hole. "Now pay close attention, 'cause it only gets more complicated from here on out."

Morty could do nothing but nod in accedence. "Yes, grandpa."

"That's right. You're in my world now," said Rick with a lecherous grin. "Ready?"

"I think- _Owah!"_

He'd half-expected Rick to bury the thing to the hilt in a single thrust, but he was taking his sweet time pushing it in a little bit, then pushing it out. Then a little bit more, then back out again. Morty winced. It was barely the size of the average human dick, and it still hurt like a bitch. If he were still aroused, just stroking himself would probably be enough to drown it out, but the fact that he'd just blown his load was making it quite a bit harder to enjoy the pain.

"Mm," he hummed as it rubbed against his prostate. Through a combination of youthful vigor and sheer determination to get (sort of) fucked by his grandfather, Morty's sex began to stir once more. Still, it was only half-hard.

"Not enough, huh?" said Rick. "Well, what about this?"

Morty's heart practically stopped as he felt something wrinkled, but firm press and rub against his cock. Holy fuck, _holy fuck_ , Rick's dick was pressed up against his own!

"Too easy," said Rick as the blood went rushing back between Morty's legs, reawakening his weary genitals like a prince's kiss did Sleeping Beauty. "It's kinda hard to do this and fuck you with a dildo at the same time, though. How's about you give me a hand with this?"

Oh, to hell with a handjob. "I-I wanna suck it," said Morty bluntly.

"Atta boy, Morty! Way to show some initiative!" said Rick, seeming pleased that he'd finally decided to be up-front about his desires. He rifled through some of the condoms he'd lain out on the bedside table by the alarm clock. "Just gimme a sec to put a condom on. I've got four different flavors, here; strawberry, chocolate, vodka, and corn. Don't-don't ask about that last one, Morty, it was a gift. Anyway, pick one."

" _None,"_ said Morty huskily.

Rick raised his unibrow. "Okay, I'm- You're a virgin, and I get myself tested on a bi-weekly basis, so I think it's safe to say we're both clean, but dick isn't like they tell you in the porn you watch, Morty. It tastes like a penis. Because, you know, it is one."

"I _know_ it tastes like a penis, Rick, I'm not _that_ stupid," huffed Morty. "I-I don't care. I want- It's better that way." He licked his fingers in the most seductive manner he could manage. It was a pretty pathetic display, but damn it, he was trying. "Just let me try. I mean, worst case scenario, I give up and you put a condom on." Not the corn condom, though. Getting frisky with his grandpa was one thing, but that was just too weird.

Rick shrugged and slid the dildo, still only half-inside of Morty's rectum, all the way back out again. "Whatever you say."

"So how are we doing this?" asked Morty, wincing as it slid out of him with an uncomfortable 'pop.' "Is it like a sixty-nine kinda thing?"

Rick sat up straight against the pillows, legs apart. "Morty, I want you to lay down like you're gonna rest your head on my lap, but on your back, facing that shitty ceiling."

"But how am I gonna-"

"Just do it."

Still somewhat confused, Morty sat down in front of Rick facing away from him, then laid his head down between Rick's legs close enough that his hair was brushing up against his swangly old balls. "Like this?"

"Just like that," said Rick. Without warning, he reached forward, grabbed Morty's waist, and pulled his lower half up to his chest so that he was upside-down with his cheek pressed firmly against Rick's dick. "Stop flailing your legs, Morty. Put your knees on my shoulders."

"H-holy shit," Morty allowed himself to say aloud. He did his best not to whack Rick too hard as he placed his knees against his shoulders, still adjusting to the new position.

Morty supposed some people might be surprised by the fact that a man of Rick's age was capable of holding him up with one arm wrapped around his lower back while the other reached for the dildo, but then, all that running and fighting did a lot for one's upper body strength. It certainly helped that he wasn't really a heavy person to begin with, even with the muscle he'd built over the past few years of adventuring.

He blushed fervently as he realized just how exposed the position left him, leaving both his groin and asshole plainly exposed and ripe for abuse. "W-wow."

"My dick isn't gonna suck itself, Morty. Get to work."

With a cautious, shuddering breath, Morty gave the tip of Rick's sizeable cock (he hadn't been kidding with that boast about not even being hard yet) a tentative lick. Sure enough, the taste was less than stellar, but he was more than happy to suck it down his throat even so. The combination of the unusual position and its massive circumference strained his jaw, but he wasn't about to give up the chance of a lifetime over something so trivial. As it slid further and further past his lips, Morty thought about just how many people, humans and aliens alike, had been wound tightly around its impressive girth. He supposed that was something that ought to disgust him.

It did not. Rather, it only served to turn him on even more as he thought about how, in three months, it would be _his_ turn.

Morty yelped around Rick's dick as the dildo was roughly re-inserted into his waiting hole, stuffing him full and leaving him a writhing mess. The time for gentle adjustment was over as it was pushed all the way to the base, pressing against his most sensitive spots and driving him wild.

"Just so we're clear, if you spazz out and bite down, I _will_ return the favor," warned Rick. "Brace yourself."

Morty blinked, unable to respond with Rick's length filling his mouth. What was he _FUCKFUCKFUCK,_ he'd forgotten about the vibrating feature! It took all his willpower not to clench his jaw out of sheer surprise when Rick started the device up inside him, mercilessly assaulting his vulnerable prostate with heavenly sensations as he thrust it slowly in and out of his body. "HRM!"

"That's it, hum a little. Use those vocals and get some vibrations going," instructed Rick. Morty's shoulders would have drooped if he were right-side up. He couldn't see Rick's face from his position, but from the sound of it, he was more or less unaffected by Morty's mouth. Was he really just that bad at oral? "And for fuck's sake, Morty, what did I just say about using your tongue? Remember that? From when we kissed a few minutes ago? It goes for oral, too! You-you can't just stick your mouth on something and expect it to work!"

Oh, it was _on._ With freshly-renewed determination, Morty began sucking in earnest, dragging his tongue all around Rick's dick like it was the tastiest fucking ice cream imaginable, instead of the same organ he pissed out of. It was too long for him to fit easily in his mouth, but he pressed his hands against the bed to help him further impale his own throat until he very nearly gagged, his forehead mere centimeters from Rick's shriveled-up testicles. "Mmmmmmmm…"

"Shit," gasped Rick, much to Morty's delight. "Don't think you can get me that easy! I'm not letting go until I get you to jizz a second time!"

Rick began fucking Morty with the vibrating dildo in earnest, positively hammering his spot like a boxer beating on a punching bag. The moaning noises he'd begun making intentionally in order to pleasure Rick became significantly less voluntary as he was repeatedly lanced up the ass. The motor was turned up high enough that it was whirring quite audibly, loud enough that Morty wasn't sure he'd feel comfortable using it at home where someone might actually be listening in by the door. Even so, with overwhelmed tears in his eyes, Morty remained determined. He wasn't going to give in. He was going to make Rick finish first!

Rick gave Morty's sensitive sex a single, teasing lick. With a shudder and a choked (literally) cry, Morty arched his back and _came,_ harder than he could ever remember doing so in his entire life.

"Tha-" said Rick, belching, "-t's it. Let it aaaaall out."

"Mmm," Morty moaned, but he had nothing on Rick's longevity. He did the best that he could for Rick's stubborn cock, but his tongue was getting tired, and the position was making him lightheaded. Rick yanked the dildo from his ass and dropped him carelessly back down onto the bed, causing him to lose his oral grasp on Rick's genitals, in turn.

"Nice try, Morty. I'll give you credit where it's due, you managed to salvage that a little towards the end, there. It wasn't as awful as it could have been," said Rick. Morty scowled.

"Y-you're a cheater, Rick!" said Morty. "You're just too old to get off!"

"Oh, is that what you think? That-that's a pretty harsh accusation, Morty. I'm thinking I should punish you for even suggesting it." Exhausted as he was, even just _hearing_ the p-word was enough to make Morty wonder if he could somehow get it back up. In the meantime, Rick grasped his own length. "Stick your chin back down on the bed. I'm gonna blow my load all over your virgin face."

Morty didn't have to be told twice. He didn't even mind the way Rick snickered at how quickly he was on his hands and knees, in a pose that looked almost like he was bowing down to worship his penis. If he was being honest with himself, it wouldn't have been an altogether inaccurate assessment to make.

"Please, grandpa!" said Morty, gazing up at him with eyes full of both lust and adoration. "P-punish me!"

"You asked for it, Morty," said Rick, stroking himself at a rapid pace. From his position right in front of the action, Morty made it a point to take some mental notes about the way Rick moved his hand to pleasure himself, struggling to decode the best zones for later use. "Ready?"

Before Morty could even nod, a glut of semen had splattered across his forehead, narrowly missing his eyes and dripping down his forehead. He sighed contentedly as his grandfather's sperm met his lips and licked it up as it did, too delighted to mind the odd, salty taste.

"That's the stuff," said Rick, looking at least marginally satisfied by the encounter. "Yeah, that's right, lick that right on up, Morty. Swallow all those potential aunts and uncles. You know that's the same dick that made your mother, right?"

Morty nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, as long as we're on the same page," said Rick, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back. "I'd ask if you're up for round two, but you look about ready to pass out."

Morty crawled his way up to Rick's side, still licking up the cum from his own face. "Mm."

Rick swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, leaving Morty disappointed. He hadn't expected his grandfather to be a cuddly person, but couldn't he at least say something before he left to shower?

As it turned out, however, Rick was not leaving to shower. Rather, he retrieved the box of what looked a little like pizza (if pizza had pink cheese and strange green splotches all over it) and set it down on the bed between them.

"We've already messed up the bed," said Rick, ruffling Morty's hair and grabbing a slice. "May as well eat in it, too. You haven't lived until you've woken up in a mess of dried cum and breadcrumbs, Morty."

Morty smiled weakly, still feeling rather tired, but hungry enough that he was willing to try whatever weird shit Rick had brought with him.

"It's cold," he noted as he picked it up.

"Well, it _was_ hot," said Rick, who took a bite nonetheless. "And this shitty motel doesn't even have a microwave. You really know how to pick 'em, Morty."

Morty wrinkled his nose as he bit into the alien pizza, not sure if it was from a different planet or a different dimension, and scooted ever so slightly closer to Rick. It was official. They were an 'item,' as it were. It all seemed a little too good to be true.

"Is this a simulation?" said Morty, chewing the pizza.

"Nah. If it were, the sex would have been way better."

Morty frowned. "Am I that big of a disappointment?"

"Uhg, you take this shit so personally," said Rick through a mouthful of food. "No one – at least in this dimension – is just magically good at sex, or even foreplay their first time. Anyone who tells you otherwise either had low standards or just doesn't care 'cause they don't plan on having sex with you again."

"Even you?"

"No, Morty, I was giving people mind-blowing blowjobs fresh out of the womb. _Yes,_ even me, idiot."

Morty swallowed. "So, uh, does that mean you _want_ to do that again?"

"Well, we're apparently an item now, so yeah," said Rick. "Probably."

Just hearing those words coming from Rick's lips was enough to perk Morty back up.

"So, umm, a-about you being my- uh, my _boyfriend…"_ said Morty, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. Rick Sanchez was his boyfriend. His _grandfather_ was his boyfriend. It was all so wrong, and yet so _right._ "When you say 'open relationship…' "

"Oh, geez," said Rick. "Got cold feet on that detail? It's just for casual sex. If you can't handle it, though…"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's fine," said Morty. "It's just, can I add one condition?"

Rick stopped chewing. "I'm listening."

"I-I want you to tell me when you're gonna have sex with someone else," said Morty. "A-a-and maybe an invitation for a threesome, if that's cool with the other person."

"Well, that's a new one," said Rick, tossing his half-eaten crust back into the box to go for another slice. "So-so I've gotta get your permission first, is that it? Didn't realize you were so controlling, Morty." Before Morty got respond, he added, "Not gonna lie, it's kinda-" He belched. "-kinda hot."

Just when Morty thought nothing could make him blush anymore, that comment made his cheeks go red once again. "So you'll agree?"

Rick appeared to seriously consider the condition. "I mean, it sounds fair enough, I guess, as long as the same goes for you. You decide to bang that Jessica chick, I get advance notice and the whole story afterwards, right?"

"If-if I have sex with Jessica, Rick, the whole _family_ is gonna be hearing about it afterwards."

Rick chuckled. "Just as long as they don't find out that she's just the side ho."

"R-rick and Morty, forever and ever, all a hundred years, r-right, Rick?" said Morty.

Rick wrapped his arm around Morty's shoulder and pulled him in close to cuddle while they ate. Overjoyed, Morty clung to his body like stray hair clung to shower walls.

"You missed, like, more than half of the dialogue from that bit, but close enough, Morty," said Rick, playfully smooching his cheek. "Close enough."

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, my first C137cest fic! It's a little all over the place in terms of its meandering plotline, and the characterization might be a little weird, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Thank you very much for reading, and please remember to leave some feedback in the comments; I'm a firm believer in constructive criticism, and I genuinely wish to improve. Feel free to leave honest feedback without fear of getting kicked out of my lighthouse. I've got a couple ideas for a sequel, but I'd rather wait to hear what people think I could stand to improve on before I begin work on that. Thanks again!


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